The Agent, The Ghost And The Wardrobe

I: The Agent

Chapter 2

It was a new feeling.

I met someone in my dreams. She didn't look at all frightened to see me. In fact, it was as if she was expecting it.

The moon illuminated the dark and wooden attic. Everything was a complete mess. I looked around seeing all sorts of instruments either in pieces or scratches on their gold and silver. This was definitely a different kind of dream.

Well take the girl in the semi circle huddled by the door for example.

Okay, there were always people in my dreams. And it wasn't the first time I've seen a girl. Only, she made my heart skip a beat (which, I can tell you, isn't a very good thing for me). I almost started coughing when I realized that I was still in my dream. There were no restraints here.

I took another daring step and moved closer to the circle. It looked like a metal chain. And I knew if I touched it, I would disappear. Strange.. How did I know that?

Her voice snapped me back to the dream reality.

"Hello," She was still leaning against the door. Her short hair was covered in dust.

I looked at her closely. In the candle's flame, the girl's eyes looked like they were drowning in amber. She looked like the kind of girl who rolls her eyes if you made a mistake. Or the kind of girl who loves to laugh and joke around. Her clothes were ripped and her arm was cut. If she minded her wounds or my company she sure didn't show it.

One word would've done it, I thought. Beautiful.

"Are you cold?" She croaked. "Do you want to get closer to the light?" Her voice was clearer this time.

I was happy that she talked to me. My body drew in closer to the circle. But the smile on my face disappeared. The girl had her eyes fixed on the fire. Her lips were turning blue.

"Are you cold?" This was her voice. I knew it was (her lips didn't move). It was her echo. Meaning it was my words.

For a brief second, I could see a tired smile flash across her face. "I'm alright. Just tired."

I felt sad. "Just tired?" Another echo came. I asked her. All she could do was nod and she fell to the wooden floor.

I was panicking.

She knocked the small candle and the wooden floor quickly caught on fire like how water easily fills a glass.

All I knew was that I had to get this girl to safety. But every time I tried grabbing on to her, my hands shot right past like I was aiming very badly. It was frustrating.

1.. 2.. 3..

It was important to keep a clear head when facing a deadly situation. So I took a deep breath.

4..

Then I remembered how the wind would carry the leaf to the window by my bed. I felt my body becoming lighter. The winds held on to the girl while flames tried to lick her body. I shielded her with my form.

5.. 6..

It was no easy task controlling the wind. We floated to the corner of the wardrobe. It was the only place that didn't seem to be attracted to the fire.

7.. 8.. 9..

I quickly formulated a plan. I would stay with her until the flare would signal someone to call for help. Then I would follow her to know if she's safe.

10.. 11.. 12..

The wind carried her.

The outside of the wardrobe seemed to be carved with the hands of a master. This piece was definitely antique. And familiar. But this was no time to follow my trail of thoughts.

A body length mirror hung on the inside. It was cracked and there were shards of it on the wardrobe's bottom. She could get cuts and bruises but what choice did we have?

13.. 14.. Almost there...

Just as we were about to enter the ancient wardrobe I heard a yell.

"LUCY!" Two boys charged through the door.

"Lucy!"

They looked to be about my age. There was a tall boy with a wicked looking sword in his hands. And a sort of pudgy one with a small pair of spectacles falling from his nose. Both looked to be in a similar disheveled state as Lucy.

Despite the situation, I couldn't help but smile.

Lucy! The name suited her.

The winds died down and something fell to the ground. I bent down to pick Lucy's unconscious body but something cold cut through my body and my form dispersed.

•

•

•

•

I was as light as a feather.

I was as free as the wind.

I dreamt I was fire...

There was that constant beeping of the machines and the strong smell of alcohol that never seemed to leave Rick Jonathan.

He'd just finished scribbling on his tattered leather notebook and he leaned back on his reclined squeaky bed.

Rick let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried falling asleep again to see if Lucy was safe but he knew better. None of his dreams took him to the same place twice. And that's all they were. Dreams.

He pressed his cold palms to his burning face.

If they were all dreams, why did I feel so anxious?

His private room was separated from the rest of the wards. It had a small television by the corner, silently playing an old cartoon. There was nothing out of place. Nothing felt odd. But he knew he was missing something today and he had no idea what it was.

A knock from the door shook him out of his thoughts.

"Good morning, Rick!" The nurse greeted him with her familiar Scottish accent.

"Good morning, Charlie. You can call me Jon. Everybody does." He watched his nurse open the curtains letting the warm sunlight stream through the windows.

She laughed, "Sorry, Jon." She said with her tongue sticking out. Jon laughed with her immediately feeling better. Charlie was a cool college intern. Unlike those grumpy looking nurses who had permanent frowns etched on their faces.

"You have a visitor today," She systematically checked his blood pressure, the IV bag that hung from Jon's bed and all other vital signs.

"Who?" Jon asked. "Hold out your arm." She held a needle in her hand. He was used to this daily routine, he didn't even flinch when the needle was injected. Jon tried getting her to tell him but all she did was wink.

Charlie held out a cotton ball, "Press here." Jon obeyed and she put a small bandage on his arm.

"Charlie," Jon began protesting but was shushed. Charlie was silent with her eyes closed and Jon knew what was coming. Her green eyes fluttered open and whispered, "She comes."

Right on cue, Emma came bursting through the doors and tackled Jon with a big hug. "Happy Birthday, Jon!" Charlie grinned and began making her way out of the room.

Jon didn't have enough time to brace himself and winced when she touched the sensitive part of his stomach.

"Good morning to you too, Emma." She looked up to him with her dark brown eyes and features that mirrored Jon's. Emma pouted and continued, "Come on, Jon! Why are you still in your hospital dress?"

Jon let out a tired sigh and said, "For the last time, Emma. These aren't dresses." She wasn't listening. She hopped over to his bedside where she placed a small brightly colored box on top of his notebook.

"We have to go soon if we want to make it to the parade! Especially with all the things we have planned today." She smiled mischievously.

Jon, who knew his sister all too well, didn't try to protest.

It was hard sneaking out of the hospital unnoticed. Especially when everyone knew the son and daughter of the company's owner. But Rick and Emma Jonathan managed. And twenty minutes later, they were on the tube making their way to the London Eye.

It was bloody cold outside.

"George d'you think you could've grabbed me a thicker coat?" I said through chattering teeth. But the overstuffed blondie just shrugged his shoulders.

Lockwood and George walked side-by-side along the crowded streets of London. Christmas was just around every corner we passed. Each street lined with more and more stands selling warm drinks and tin toys. It was too surreal.

Give me a break. It's my first Christmas in the city.

Sure, we've had markets and festivals back at my old village. But none as grand as this. I think it was too much to take in and I almost lost Lockwood and George in the crowd. I heard someone call my name and found them standing beside a cart selling popcorn.

"Here," Lockwood took his coat off and I did the same. Lockwood's heavy coat was warm, oddly comforting and several sizes too big.

George snorted as he continued munching on a caramel popcorn. I held back the urge to smack the back of his fat head.

"It's your fault for forgetting about my coat." I said through clenched teeth. About three-quarters of my legs were exposed to the biting wind. Geez, we couldn't even stop by 35 Portland Row for a change of clothes. Instead, I got the clothes still covered with dust and scratches.

"Why are we here, anyway?" I asked, finally plucking up the courage to make conversation. The two seemed to have calmed down. Well, they didn't look like they wanted to punch a hole through the wall.

George replied, "We're out Christmas shopping."

There was something exciting about spending my first Christmas as a member of Lockwood and Co. My face broke into a grin. Lockwood and George (yes, even George) caught onto my excitement and we were laughing and talking like old friends as we made our way down the endless rows of shops and stands.

Jon was being pulled around in swerving and jerking motions all across the market square. He couldn't stop to catch his breath until Emma would push him to the next store. For a ten year old, Emma sure knows how to shop.

As a kid, Jon never understood the phrase shop 'till you drop. He did now.

It was finally one in the afternoon and they've been to sixteen different stores, tried four different kinds of ice cream, rode the London Eye and walked around for two hours straight. Jon was more exhausted then he's ever been in his entire life and he loved every second of it.

"-so Mommy was telling me about the Problem at the old cottage where we used to stay as kids." Emma continued happily licking her ice cream cone while Jon contently watched a ferry lazily floating on the River Thames.

"They found a body this morning. Some villagers said they saw a fire in the attic. But when they came the next day, there wasn't any sign of a fire." Emma talked about it like she was discussing the weather forecast.

"Jon! Are you listening?" Emma poked Jon's arms and he was looked around confusedly. He was wondered how he got to this cold bench next to his sister on his birthday.

"I'm sorry, Emma." He smiled. "It's just that.. I feel so happy."

There's one thing about Jon's smiles, it made just about anyone melt upon contact. He had a kind glint in his eyes unlike the other fake smiles people get everyday. This was real. With a kind of deep sadness as well. When you go to sleep thinking that you might never wake up the next day, you'd learn to cherish life the way most people wouldn't.

"I thought I would spend another birthday on my hospital bed waiting for news about my condition again." He said with a grim smile. "I overheard Charlie talking to the Doctor last night. They said that even if they found the equipment to remove the glass shard in my vein, there was a 50-50 chance I might not make it." The pair fell silent as the world continued buzzing around them.

This is so unfair. Emma thought. Why did her kind big brother have to spend his life in the hospital bed when he could have a normal life like anyone? Finally, the silence was just too much for her.

"Honestly," She punched Jon's arm. "No negative thoughts. It's your birthday! You should be enjoying this." Jon just smiled and rubbed his sore arm.

"Thank you, Emma." Emma gave a satisfied grin.

"No time to waste," Emma was bouncing with excitement.

"Hurry, Jon! We have to see the street parade, next." Jon was about to ask her to slow down but his voice was drowned with the city. Loud music started playing on the speakers and Emma dashed to get a good view of the street.

He thought he saw Emma in her bright blue dress and he put his hand on the girl's shoulder. "Emma! Don't just run off like that." But the girl turned around. She had big blue eyes and freckles sprayed across her face.

"Excusez-moi?" Jon kept apologizing while the girl continued her ranting in rapid French. He slowly moved back until the girl was just another voice in the crowd.

"Lockwood! You were supposed to keep an eye on her." George was fuming.

"I was! I had an eye on her and another on a book I think she might like." Lockwood replied back, straining to make his voice heard over the blaring music.

George grumbled, "Well great. Now we have to find her and a gift. Lockwood simply smiled and slung his arm around his neck, "Come now, George. Look at the bright side."

George waited several beats before asking, "Which would be..." Lockwood's grin turned into a nervous smile and he coughed.

"Excuse me?" They both turned their heads to the sound of the female voice. "Lucy where were-" Lockwood began but caught himself when he was face-to-face with a little brunette girl.

"-you?" Lockwood coughed again and smiled. "I'm sorry little girl, I thought you were a friend."

George was getting impatient. "C'mon Lockwood, we have no time to chat with kids. We have to look for the biggest kid I've ever met." George began to walk away. "Imagine running after that old man just because he was wearing a Santa costume. Honestly," He kept muttering. "Now we don't even know where she is. I bet when we find her she'll be playing with the tin toys or drinking hot chocolate on top of the London Eye."

"I can be your friend, Mister." The little girl smiled back, she held out her hand to Lockwood. "I'm Emma Jonathan. And you must be-" She paused for a minute staring at Lockwood's face. "Are you Mr. Anthony from the famous Lockwood & Co.!?"

Lockwood seemed taken by surprise with the sudden question but he looked like he was going to enjoy this girl's company. "Why, yes I am." And he flashed his straight white teeth.

The girl burst into a squeal and started jumping up and down. "Oh My Goodness!" She hugged Lockwood's waist (which was about as high as she could reach).

"You are! You are! I thought so! I read about you on the newspapers!" She continued showering Lockwood with endless praises and flattery. Lockwood had a smug look on his face as he began the story of how he single-handedly saved London from the destruction of a loose Raw-Bones. The two of them began talking animatedly drawing attention by many passer-bys.

Lockwood and his new friend took little notice of George who muttered darkly.

Just my luck, two kids to take care of.